


Tie Me Down

by SlashyUnicorn



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent (sort of), Light Bondage, M/M, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 22:44:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4684073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlashyUnicorn/pseuds/SlashyUnicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was not uncommon for an alpha to want to bond with another alpha, but in Russia it was uncommon enough it was almost unheard of. Most of Russian tended to bond with omega, and beta. Another thing American did differently than Russia. </p><p>The scent did not affect him at all. It did not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tie Me Down

The American stole his woman. Illya knew that was not the truth, but when he chased down that car, driven by an unbonded omega with a scent of alpha, his inner instinct making him territorial. Inner alpha screaming to bond and mount the lone omega, to make it his. So he ran as hard as he can, trying to kill the American alpha in the process. He got beaten, at the end the other went free with the omega. He can smell a faint scent of lust, but it was not directed at, or by the woman. Instead he can see how the other alpha gave _him_ a seductive smile, licking his lips in the process. Then the car moved and he was left alone at the minefield, confused by the behavior.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

He met the other again in the public toilet in Regent’s Park, London, trying to strangle the thief (turns out he was not mistaken after all, the man is a CIA agent, yes, but also professional thief). Again, he can smell that lust scent again, heady and intoxicating. He shook his head, trying to get free of the hold of the scent. It was not uncommon for an alpha to want to bond with another alpha, but in Russia it was uncommon enough it was almost unheard of. Most of Russian tended to bond with omega, and beta. Another thing American did differently than Russia. 

The scent did not affect him at all. It did not.

He kept the mantra on his head, hoping with time, it’ll banish all this reaction he had because of the other man (he knew it was futile).

When he walked out of the park, he can feel the man’s, Napoleon Solo’s stare on the back of his head. He chose to ignore it.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Gaby was a strong one for an omega, he said so, feeling the need to be truthful to his soon-to-be fiancé. She seemed to take offence. “What do you mean by that? Are you mocking omegas? You think we’re weak?”

“On the contrary, omegas are strong. Stronger than any of us. But your strength usually lies on other set of skills. Do not be offended. I like my woman strong.”

Somehow that still seemed to offend her. Women, they were hard to understand.

It was true that omegas usually more strong in seduction and negotiation, their keen deduction skill made them into a good negotiator and detective. And also spy. But organization chose mostly bonded omegas, to prevent accident with alphas. And to reduce chances of synchronized heat, since bonded omegas (and omegas on suppressor) had a known, regular heat cycle. Alphas had a heat cycle, but they can choose when to initiate the heat, unless there were omegas (or alphas) on heat nearby. Something omegas had been jealous about for years.

She was not giving the unbonded scent he smelt yesterday, and for a moment Illya thought she has been claimed by Solo, but with a deeper breath, he can smell a scent of suppressor. He wondered why Solo did not claim her right there, behind the wall of East Germany. He gave a little bit more respect for the control of his instinct.

He also refused remember the scent of lust that might be one of the answer to his question.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

“I know you smelt my scent a few times already, so why is it that you’re not acting on it?”

The lascivious look Solo gave him was unbecoming for a spy.

“I do not know what you are talking about.”

Solo got up from his seat, walking slowly until he was standing right in front of Illya blocking his look at the window. “Move, I cannot see the street. In case you do not remember, we are supposed to do surveillance on the target.”

But the man was unmoved. “Come on, Peril. You, me, big bed in the middle of the room. We’ve been cooped out in here for hours. Target won’t be out of his house again for today.”

Illya pinched the bridge of his nose. Why must the world burdened him with this infuriating American.

“So why don’t we-“ Solo moved to push Illya to the nearest seat, climbing on top of him, trapping him with his hands on the back of the seat. “-have some _fun._ ”

Illya made a noise on the back of his head. He was sitting ramrod straight, not daring to move or even inhale to deep. That scent again. This time it was stronger, proximity making it unbearable. He can feel hardness digging into his thigh, and his responding to it in his pants. Clenching his hand, he refused to be dragged down to this man’s level. Trying to distract himself, he tried to push Solo on the chest. “Sex on the job? Very unprofessional, Solo.”

The man had the gall to laugh. “A little bit of it here and there won’t hurt, Peril. Even you have to get your pipe cleaned now and then.”

“Please, you are not James Bond. If the mission is compromised because of you, I will personally throw you out to the Tiber myself. ”

They heard footsteps in front of the room, sign that Gaby was coming back from a private meeting with her uncle. Solo sighed dramatically and moved away slowly, as if disappointed his tryst was interrupted by the mission.

“Alright, we’ll continue another time then.” And gave a short kiss on Illya’s lips, right when Gaby walked in.

Illya spluttered, but before he was able to shove Solo, the other pulled back, grinning like a cat and sauntered away, possibly went back to his room.

Gaby stood in the middle of the room, unmoving, raising one of her eyebrows. “What was that?”

Turning his head back towards the window, fingers tapping his thigh in nervousness he said, “I do not know.”

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Their mission was a success, they were recruited into the U.N.C.L.E and his superior did not kill him for his betrayal. All seemed good so far. Contrary to his belief, the American was actually a good spy. A good spy with inefficient American equipment, and he kept getting distracted by other alphas, which was seemed to be his preference. When asked about it he said, “I like a strong partner.” While looking at him. Illya pretend not to notice.

“Why do you want to know? I didn’t know my sexual preference matter to you, Peril.”

“It does not.”

He kept up the pretense and keep watching the opera through the glasses like they supposed to, because their target was on stage now (he was not actually watching it), which was exactly when Solo (who sat beside him) pulled it down and look him in the eyes. “Well then, why don’t I tell you all about it.” He winked, and proceed to tell him all about his sexual escapade. Whispering dirty things in his ears, voice toned down to low, seductive tone. Needless to say it was hard to finish the opera and trying to prevent his (and Solo’s) hand from reaching into his pants and provide sweet relief.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

They have been working for several years now. Time and time again, Illya having a constant battle with his inner voice, which urged him to claim Solo. Claiming strong, clever, charming Solo as his mate. To mark him, and in turn being marked by him to complete the bond. _You will never find another one like this, his mind supplied._ Illya wanted to argue that there were plenty of American like Solo but then his mind interrupted with _but not as unpredictable._

And it was true. Solo kept the advances over the years. And throughout the time together, working to complete mission, his moves were both predictable and unpredictable. He kept Illya on his toes. He never thought disorder and chaos would be something that he craved every day. But the American surely did not want to be in a committed relationship. He had seen the string of one night stand Solo had and he did not want to be another name on the list.

The next time Solo—Napoleon—gave back his father’s watch (which has been stolen a couple of times already, and each time Napoleon grinned and brought the watch back to him) and tried to kiss him on the lips (even he forgot how many times he tried, and succeeded, already) he shoved him hard and ran back to his room, breathing hard. 

He tried to forget the hurt look he got, masked by surprise.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

When Illya slept last night, he did not expect to wake up tied down to his bedpost, naked. And he knew he went to bed with a full set of clothes on, as he always felt uncomfortable in being fully vulnerable and had to be ready on a moment's notice. He had a suspicion he was drugged, as the vodka he drank before bed taste different than usual.

_“Ty che, blyat?!”_

He looked out to the window, curtain slightly ajar, it appears it was still night time. A quick look to the hotel’s clock and it seems only one hour passed after he closed his eyes to sleep. Both of his hand each tied down to the bed post, along with his legs, making him spread eagle on the bed. At the end of the bed, he can see Napoleon smirking, only in his boxer, which was a rare sight in itself and Illya gulp down trying to contain his lust before Napoleon smelt it but it was too late, from the way he smirked.

“I will not say it again. Release me! Now!”

“How about no?” he sighed. “I want it. You want it. Why deny it, Peril?” He looked down towards Illya’s cock, flushed red and curving towards his stomach even with Illya trying to will it to submission. “And from how hard your little friend there, we can both agree that I am right.” 

“No.”

“Look,“ Napoleon turned back to fill his glass of scotch and Illya can see the barely covered behind of his, boxer stretching to contain it. His cock twitched. _He did it on purpose._

“I know there’s nothing between you and our little missy Gaby or else you and her would’ve told me so to stop my advances. And I can see how blown your pupils are when you are in close proximity to me, don’t try to lie. So answer me this, why not?”

No. He will not admit—The American was bad news. He was bad news. They should not be together.

“And you? Why did you tie me to the bed? Do you have a death wish, Cowboy?”

Napoleon took a drink of his scotch. “Deflecting a question with a question. Classic. But let me answer this one. Because you, my dear friend Illya, are in denial. I’m just helping you, and me, out. I always get what I want at the end.”

It was then whiff of something reached his nose and Illya tensed. The smell was different than usual. It was something that has been building throughout their conversation how come he didn’t notice—

He tried to search information in his head for the reason why and he realized, immediately. _Napoleon Solo was on heat._

_“Blyat!”_

His mind was whirring, searching for ways to escape the bond. He pulled hard on the ropes, convinced the bed post would break with a few hard pull. Solo quickly stood and walk towards the bed. “Hey, hey, calm down, okay.” He frowned. “I thought you would be more on board with this. Ugh. Stubborn Russian. But then again, tying down an alpha actually not a good way to do it now that I think about it…”

Illya scoffed. “Of course not you stupid American! Now release me. Because trust me, there will be hell to pay if you do not.”

Solo held his hands up as if in surrender, when he began to untie Illya’s legs. He thought about kicking the _ublyudok’s_ head but decided against it. And he can see the slight surprised in Solo’s eyes when he did not do it. When both legs are done, he moved to straddle Illya’s hips because of course Napoleon would use every single situation to his advantage.

“What do you _think_ you are doing?” he gritted his teeth. Up close, he can see the bulge on Napoleon’s boxer. His cock was tenting slightly to the side, the boxer already had dark patch from the head leaking to it. He wondered why Napoleon bothered with the boxer. He knew now it was because it looked obscene. Giving a little tease of what was coming instead of full taste of it.

He had been too busy staring at it that when he went back to Napoleon’s face, he was grinning in delight, having caught Illya on the act. He moved his head down, as if to kiss him. “Are you sure about not wanting me?”

“I—“

Illya supposed he should have seen it coming when Napoleon kissed him hard on the mouth. He pressed his lips to prevent entry but when one of Napoleon’s hand went down to pinch his nipple he yelp, tongue quickly gaining access and licking all over his mouth. He can almost taste the heat on his mouth. A sweet scent that was making him harder. He did not even realize he had been moaning and bucking his hips until Napoleon answered it by grinding his ass into his cock. He began to panic again.

A touch to his face brought him back to the present. “Listen, do you trust me?”

Did he trust Napoleon? Of course not. They were a spy, not made to trust anybody. With his confused stare, Napoleon revised his question. “Okay, okay, not generally, then. Right now. Do you trust me right now?”

Illya looked away. “But you do not want this.”

“What’d you mean by this?” he said, sensing a different meaning to the words.

“Us.”

A look of understanding begin to dawned at Napoleon’s face. But what he did next, was slapping Illya’s face lightly (not that lightly). “Please don’t presume you know what I want, _before_ confirming it to me, alright?”

With a wide eyes, he nods, and they kissed again, passionately this time now that Illya knew he won’t be cast away. This man, this infuriating, strong, charming clever alpha in front of him had agrees to be his.

A few more kiss and they were breathing hard, their lips still close with breath mingle, unwilling to part even for a while. Napoleon reluctantly moved away, finally getting rid of the boxer. Illya got the full view now and he was straining at the ropes, instinct telling him to get out of it, to take control. To suck Napoleon’s cock, pinned him down to the bed and fuck him. It battles with his other instinct to please his mate, to let go and relinquish all control because it was what his mate wanted. And this instinct won.

Napoleon grabbed the lube from the bedside table (Illya did not remember ever putting that in there). He squeezed it onto his hand and warmed it up. Illya flinched at the first contact on his ass, but relaxed when Napoleon stroked and kissed the inside of his thighs. “Your thighs are fantastic. Must be from all that running you did. Chasing down cars and villains.” For some reason Napoleon seemed to immersed himself in Illya’s thighs, running his lips and sucking a bruise into his thighs. It was tickling, and not an act that turn Illya on, usually, but this was Napoleon. The man can make do just about anything and make it look…hot. 

“I did not—ah!—remember ever saying that I wanted to be fucked.”

“Relax, darling, we’ll switch it up later.” And he twisted his fingers, the end of it touching hard on his prostate. He bit his lips but Napoleon was nothing but not thorough and soon enough he had a moaning and panting Illya on his hand. Squirming to get more of it, he fucked himself on Napoleon’s hand. “My sweet Illya, such a sexy little whore, panting and moaning under my hand.” Figures Napoleon would be a dirty talker. “Do you like this? Fucking your tight hole into my fingers?”

Illya can’t find it in himself to mind (it was making his blood runs hotter and his inner alpha purrs. Not that he was going to admit it). _“Poshel na khuy.”_

Napoleon smirked, and when he pulled out Illya refrained from making any sound of disappointment. He lubed himself and pushed inside until he bottomed out, then setting a hard and fast pace. It was dirty and it was maddening, nothing Illya ever felt before. Illya hold on to the ropes. He was losing the carefully cultivated control that he so desperately tried (and failed) to hold on over the years. He felt like he was falling. And he was falling fast. 

“Illya.” The other’s voice was hoarse and pitched low. “Illya, let go.”

And he did. Faintly he can feel the Napoleon marking him. The bite that marked Illya as his.

When he came back to himself, Napoleon pulled out of him, still hard, kissing his forehead and running his hand through his hair. They stayed like that for a while, until the cock poking Illya on his thighs are making his soft cock twitch, trying to get hard again. “Second round?”

They kept going, Napoleon sucking his cock to hardness once again. This time, he sank down on Illya’s cock smoothly. Turns out he had prepared himself before. Admitting to Illya that he planned on fucking himself first on Illya’s cock but the Russian was just too tempting to be fucked.

Illya cannot help but admiring at how sexy Napoleon was, when he grasped Illya’s thighs and moved slightly back to fuck himself on Illya’s cock. Sexy, and beautiful, gleamed with sweat and the way his muscle tensed to keep up with his body frantic movement. Napoleon moaned with no shame, saying “Yeah, you like that? Like me riding your cock and making you come inside me? You want that? Going to make you come first, Peril.” He grinned like he knew he would win. Everything had to be a competition.

“Come here.”

Napoleon leaned down, his movement was not slowing, and Illya put his mouth next to his ear. “Yes. I love it when you ride my cock.” He purred, and biting Napoleon’s neck to mark him as his. 

Napoleon shuddered and came with a cry of Illya’s name, and a rushed, “Come inside.” Illya can only obey.

Afterwards, Napoleon got a washcloth from the bathroom to clean both of them up. He gave Illya a worried glance. “If I let you go, can you promise not to kill me?”

Illya rolled his eyes. _“Da.”_

Napoleon released him and subtly trying to defend himself, prepared for Illya to kick him out of the room both figuratively and literally (as if he will let go of him. He was very, very possessive), but Illya just grabbed his waist. They hold on to each other, both did not quite believed that they were each other’s now. They were still going to lie and drive each other crazy but now they had each other (and perhaps had more chance to drive other people crazy, together).

“Mate.” Illya said.

“Mate.” Napoleon grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow I always end up writing a cliche love story for my pairing instead of a proper, plot filled fic *sigh
> 
> Anyway, 
> 
> In this A/B/O universe, everybody can mate with everybody. They don’t have restriction, what they have, is different view of each culture, like Russian’s alpha usually mating with omega or beta instead of another alpha (and secretly judging alpha/alpha pairing). In America, the pairing is more equally mixed.
> 
> What make alphas, betas, and omegas different are their traits. Alphas are controlling, charming, and good with strategy. Omegas are good with negotiation and deduction. Betas are good with hands on and practical skills. 
> 
> A/B/O bond by marking each other on their neck. Usually they bond for life, but a lot of couple choose not to. The physical mark will fade, but bonded pair will feel still be able to feel the mark.
> 
> Heat is basically just condition, triggered by smell, that can make both omegas and alphas turned on.
> 
> Trivia (I guess?) :  
> James bond novel was made in 1953, and the movie started on 1962, starring Sean Connery as Bond.  
> Tiber is the third longest river in Italy, located in rome.
> 
> Also, please excuse my Russian(if any of you Russian-speaker out there wants to correct the words, please do). And if you wondered then yes, I did get the words from google translate. And a few of Russian swearing website. The meaning of Russian words :  
> ty che, blyat?! – what the fuck?!  
> blyat – fuck/damn  
> ublyudok – bastard  
> poshel na khuy – fuck you  
> da – yes
> 
> \----------------------------------------------
> 
> Hit me up if you wanna chat : @harukaryuumao


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